Crossing Paths with a Sorcerer
by LeMistressV
Summary: Okay, revision completed and FINALLY updated! Thom's the wouldbeknight, not Alanna. It's HIS story, far different than ever before. And it's not one of those Alannagoestotheconvent stuff.
1. Departing Home Revised

**Crossing Paths with a Sorcerer**

Written by **LeMistressV**

**Disclaimer**: I do not claim ownership to the characters that have appeared in Tamora Pierce's books. So please do not sue.

**Summary**: What if Alanna had not gone to the palace to become a knight? What if Thom had gone instead, undergoing all the hardships a noble must live through to become a respected knight? What would happen if Thom had gone through the path that he had not taken? Would it make a difference?

**Chapter 1**

Departing Home

Thom sat on a cushioned chair, his arm propped up against his chin as he thought to himself. Amethyst eyes glistened with envy and disappointment as he eyed his twin, sitting across from him. _At least she'd learn magic_, he thought, continuing to sulk. While he went off to the rocky road of sword whacking and discipline, his sister would become a lady and be married off to some buffer headed noble in no time. The thought made his skin crawl.

Although his twin relished the idea of becoming a knight, Thom did not. While his sister found sword fighting and archery to be a fascination, Thom could make no sense of it. He did not see the point of "whacking at things" and falling down. The very thought disgusted him – especially the sword whacking part.

"But I don't want to be a knight! I want to be a great sorcerer!" Thom snarled, slamming a fist down against the chair arm.

Identical, purple eyes looked up. Alanna shot her brother a vicious scowl and grumbled, "And do _you_ think I want to learn to be a lady? Having everyone telling me to 'walk straight! Sit still! Shoulders back!' That will be the death of me!" she snapped, frustrated.

Thom turned to glance at his sister once again, amethyst eyes blazing enviously. "Well at least they teach _you_ magic!" he snapped. "_I_ have to go around acting like a fool in armor, trying to play a hero or something. You know I hate that stuff!"

Alanna grinned. "Well I think being a knight's exciting. Pity, though." She looked away from her brother and sighed. "Well, I guess we'll just have to face the harsh reality. Tomorrow I'm leaving for the City of the Gods, and you'll be heading for Corus."

Thom continued to scowl and stared long and hard at his twin. If he didn't know any better, he could've sworn his sister was on the verge of crying.

* * *

"Well, this is it," Alanna said as she unsaddled her pony. She looked Thom over and gave him a tight hug. 

Thom returned to embrace, fighting back to urge to cry. He loved his sister and hated being separated from her. He knew Alanna would be very unhappy at the City of the Gods. "I'll write to you as much as I can."

Alanna smiled and pulled away from the hug. "And I'll promise to send you any spells you might want to learn. Maybe then, you won't be so miserable," she said, pushing her long, red hair behind her.

Thom nodded and gave his sister a final hug. "You will keep them secure, I hope." He grinned and moved towards Coram. "There will be plenty of tests ahead of you. Watch your back," he cautioned, feeling a slight shiver run down his spine. A part of him felt as if his sister would not live a normal 'lady' life.

"And you," his twin replied. "Take care!" And with that, Alanna turned her back and headed towards the healing woman, Maude.

Thom waved goodbye to his sister and made his way towards his worst enemy – Chubby, the evil pony who always dumped him onto the road. Carefully, he sat on Chubby's saddle and held tightly onto the reigns. "Foul little beast," Thom snarled into the pony's ear. "Don't think you'll dump me this time."

Chubby whinnied in disapproval and bucked a little.

Coram, the Trebond soldier, missed nothing. Eyeing the pony cautiously, he calmed the animal, patting its snout gently. "Well, lad, we best be goin'," he said, saddling his horse.

Thom gave a reluctant nod and followed the soldier to the long journey to Corus.

* * *

The trip to Corus was long and dull. Chubby seemed to be the only one enjoying itself, dumping Thom successfully several times while on the road. 

Thom roughly patted his cloak and grumbled to himself. If Coram had been paying any attention, he could've sworn that Thom was muttering death threats to the pony. But alas, Coram was depressed. He dreaded his fate to be the castle's laughing stock because his master was a finicky lad, with no hope for a sword.

Thom was not so unfortunate at hunting, but he was still nothing compared to his sister. He failed miserably with a sword and couldn't use it to save his life. His archery was so bad that even assassins had to cry about it. It was a sure thing that Coram Smythesson, once a respected soldier at the palace, would now become the biggest joke in the history of Corus.

"So much for pride," Coram grumbled to himself, on the verge of tears. Thom was sure to humiliate him in no time. Heck, the boy didn't even like him.

"Cursed pony," Thom mumbled in the meantime, glaring at the back of Chubby's head. He wiped a streak of dirt off his face with his dirty sleeve and glanced at Coram. "How much farther do we have to travel? Shouldn't we stop to rest or something?" he asked, irritated with the day's ride. Traveling annoyed him, especially when riding the evil Chubby.

Coram looked up at the sky and studied it for a moment. "Few more hours till sundown. We ride till then. Unless ye' prefer t' camp out," he replied, shrugging.

With a sigh, Thom urged Chubby forward. "Sundown's fine," he decided.

* * *

Thom rubbed his back and winced. The ride from yesterday had been painful. Already his muscles ached from the bruises Chubby had inflicted on him when he had fallen off the pony's back. Cursing to himself, Thom swore to slay the pony once he arrived at Corus. 

Coram was silent most of the way to Corus. Depressed and suffering from a terrible hangover – he had drunk himself half blind the previous night – he was in no mood for talk.

Thus, Thom was left to study a map he had taken from his father's study. For a moment, he traced one finger along Trebond and moved it to the path he and Coram were taking to Corus. "Guess we won't be arriving until a couple of days from now," he mumbled after a few hours of riding in silence.

The soldier nodded quietly, his head still throbbing. "Ye better get used t' th' wilderness, lad," he replied, running a hand through his aching temples.

Thom felt a sickening feeling in his gut. He was in no mood to be traveling a long journey while riding a pony that hated him so. "Shut up and stop wiggling," he hissed nastily to Chubby. "I ought to feed you to the wolves."

Coram sighed. It was going to be one long journey to Corus after all.


	2. Palace Greetings Revised

**Chapter 2**

Palace Greetings

Four days had passed when the two travelers finally arrived at Corus. They were soon swarmed with thousands of people huddled in crowds, selling goods, buying goods, or robbing goods. Thom couldn't help but be awed by the sight. It was too much a boy from the mountains could take in all in one day. Still, he found that he could live without the city life.

_Too bad Alanna isn't here. She'd love to see this place_, Thom thought, eyeing the crowd of colors. Amethyst eyes scanning the crowd carefully, they soon met twinkling hazel eyes staring up at him from the crowd.

Thom found himself staring at a young man with a rather large nose. The young man gave a charming grin and winked at Thom before disappearing into the crowd. Thom blinked and glanced at Coram, who was looking at him with disapproval.

"Ye best be careful, lad," Coram warned, leading Thom towards the Palace Way. "There are thieves here who go as far as t' steal their mother's teeth!"

Thom gulped and gave a nod, eyeing his purse and saddlebags carefully. Still, he couldn't help but think about the young man who had winked at him earlier. He didn't _look_ dangerous.

* * *

After passing the Market Way, Thom and Coram finally made it to the Palace Way. Curiously, Thom eyed the temples scattered along the way. From a distance, he caught sight of a temple dedicated to the Great Mother Goddess and grinned. Seeing the women with large axes guarding the temple, Thom couldn't help but think of his sister. 

Coram led the way to the courtyard, followed by Thom. There, a hostler hurried over to them and summoned a servant to come along. Coram introduced himself and Thom.

The servant bowed and led them inside the palace.

"Ye'll show his Grace th' proper respect," Coram murmured, staying close to the young redhead.

Thom shrugged and followed the servant and Coram quietly, feeling a sickening stir in his gut.

* * *

The duke, a tall man with dark-brown hair and muddy brown eyes, looked Thom over carefully before speaking. "Thom of Trebond, hmm? I trust you will do better here than your sire. He, of course, was always busy with his books." His voice was stern and nasal. 

Thom fought the urge to shrug. It had become quite a habit with him. "He still is, your Grace," he answered plainly, uninterested in the subject.

"Indeed." The duke glanced at Coram and smiled. "Ah, Coram Smythesson. A pleasure to have you back at the palace. I trust you will do some guard duty at your free time – if you desire, of course," he said, shaking the soldier's hand.

Coram shook the duke's hand firmly and grinned. "T'would be a pleasure, yer Grace. Didn't think ye'd remember an old soldier like me."

"Nonsense! A man who has saved my life is always welcome here at Corus," Duke Gareth replied. He turned to glance back at Thom and his smile faded. "Well, you boy, are here to study to become a knight. You will learn to defend the weak, to obey your overlord, and to champion the cause of right," he stated strictly. "You will be a page until you are fourteen, or until your masters see fit. When you are eighteen, you will undergo the Ordeal of Knighthood. _If _you survive, you will be made a Knight of Tortall." He gave Thom a stern look. "Not everyone survives." He held up his left hand and revealed a missing finger. "I lost _this_ during _my_ Ordeal."

Thom gulped nervously as he gaped at the missing spot where the duke's finger was supposed to be. _Who am I kidding? I'm not going to live long enough to be a squire, anyway_, he thought to himself. Somehow, it wasn't a very reassuring thought.

The duke dismissed Thom and Coram and sent them for their fittings. A scowling, old tailor wrapped a long cord around Thom and Coram, yelling measurements to his harassed looking apprentice. He then shoved an armful of clothing into Thom's arms.

Thom held up the gold-washed tunic, noting how big it was on him.

Coram hid a grin behind his hand as he saw the look on Thom's face. "Isn't it a wee bit big for th' lad?" he asked, still grinning.

The soldier was rewarded an irritated glare from the old tailor. "Boys grow," he snapped crankily. He then turned to Thom and shoved a pair of boots into his arms. "You rip 'em you mend 'em," he growled, sending the redheaded boy and the soldier away to their rooms.

Coram sighed and glanced at the weary looking Thom. Already dressed in his new attires, he reached for the door and said, "Well, lad. Th' boys are changing for dinner."

The page nodded. "You go ahead. I'm fine," he replied, unfolding the clothes he was given.

The soldier grunted and left the room, leaving Thom alone.

Thom eyed his new attires carefully before changing into them. Once dressed, he looked himself over in the mirror and scowled. He looked small and scrawny in his loose tunic and breeches. Amethyst eyes glared back at him as he continued to scowl at his appearance. At least he looked much better with his new clothes on, as opposed to his worn, traveling attires.

With that thought in mind, Thom left the room and stepped out into the hallway, preparing himself to break all the bones he had wanted to preserve. He was ready.

Word of a new page in the castle spread like wildfire. In no time, the page's wing grew quiet, and Thom grew uncomfortable with the stares directed at him.

Someone grabbed the redhead forcefully from behind and spun him around. Thom looked up and found himself face to face with a tall boy, nearly fourteen-years-old. "Well, what do we have _here_? Some back-country boy who _thinks_ he's a noble." He shook Thom roughly as he sneered.

"Hey, you leave him alone, Ralon. What'd he do to you?" a voice protested.

The one named Ralon glanced up sharply and glared at the new speaker. "Shut up, you!" He turned back to Thom with menacing blue eyes. "Bet you're some farmer's son _trying_ to pass for one of us, eh boy?" he sneered, shaking Thom once again.

Thom scowled and pushed the youth aside, breaking free from Ralon's grip. "Hey, leave me alone," he grumbled, straightening his gold-washed tunic. "Worthless swine."

The comment brought gasps and whispers among the other pages in the hallway. Ralon looked startled and lunged at Thom's collar, lifting him up to his feet. "You do what you're told until you _earn_ the right to be called a page!" he hissed angrily. "So when _I _you're some back-country mountain boy, _you_ say, 'Yes, Lord Ralon.'"

Thom looked as if he had just been bitten by Chubby. "Are you jesting? _I'm_ not calling _you_ any title, you tub of guts!" he snarled, trying to wriggle free from Ralon's grip. "Ow! Let go of me!" He moved his legs furiously, kicking Ralon hard on the stomach.

Ralon doubled over and threw the boy against the wall, enraged. "Puny scum!" he yelled, throwing a fist towards the redhead.

Thom, recovering from the impact against the wall, saw the punch just in time and ducked out of harm's way. He was rewarded with a pained squeal from Ralon as his fist slammed into the wall.

"What's going on here?"

The pages watching the fiasco parted silently as a tall boy with coal black hair moved through the hallway, followed by his friends. The boy had an heir of command to him and had piercing sapphire-blue eyes.

Ralon rose to his feet as he caught sight of the boy coming towards him. "Your…Your Highness," he stammered nervously, "this…_boy_ was acting as if he owned the place! Strutting down the halls like he was king and insulting me like–"

"I don't think I was talking to you, Ralon of Malven," the dark-haired boy snapped frostily, interrupting the page.

Thom, smarting a small bruise, peered up at the tall dark-haired boy and blinked. _Who's this now?_ he thought to himself, staring up at sapphire-blue eyes.

"But Highness, he–"

"Shut up, Ralon!" growled one of the dark-haired boy's friends. He was a tall and big youth with dark, muddy-brown eyes and matching hair. Thom guessed he was Duke Gareth's son.

The dark-haired boy glared at Ralon coldly, his sapphire-blue eyes filled with commanding power. For a brief moment he continued to glare at the stammering boy, until he broke his gaze and glanced at a blond boy standing near the wall. "Douglass," he asked, "what happened?"

The blond page named Douglass stepped forward and glanced at Thom for a brief moment. "It was Ralon, Jon. He started it. The boy was just minding his own business until Ralon grabbed him from behind and insulted him, calling him a back-country boy and all," he explained, grinning slightly.

The dark-haired boy nodded quietly, glaring at Ralon with disgust. "Go on," he prompted.

"The boy told Ralon to leave him alone, but Ralon just kept on bullying him. He started ordering the lad around and when the boy refused, Ralon threw him against the wall. Of course, not before the lad got a good kick at Ralon," Douglass replied, his grin widening. "And that's when you come in, Jon."

"I see." The dark-haired boy shook his head and sighed, "I'll deal with you later, Ralon, before lights out. You've been dismissed."

Ralon growled and shot Thom one last menacing look before storming out of the scene. Thom sighed. He knew this wasn't the last he'd see of Ralon of Malven.

"You've got good taste in enemies, fire-hair," the dark-haired boy said, looking at Thom. "Well, let's have a look at you."

Thom looked up into the prince's sapphire-blue eyes and felt the attention directed towards him. There were a few murmurs at the sight of his amethyst eyes. _It's like they've never seen a purple-eyed page before_, he thought to himself, his gaze calm and collected.

One of the dark-haired boy's followers leaned over to the redhead. "That's Prince Jonathan, lad," he whispered.

Amethyst eyes blinked in disbelief. _So this is the prince, eh?_ He bowed and blushed slightly. Leave it to him to get in trouble with the Royals on his first day. "Your Highness…Sorry you had to see the…misunderstanding," he said, choosing his words carefully.

The prince shook his head and grinned. "There's no misunderstanding. Ralon of Malven is no gentleman," he replied, still to looking at Thom. "And who might you be, fire-hair?"

"Thom of Trebond, your Highness."

"Well believe you haven't met the others yet." The prince glanced at the two large pages standing on beside him. One of them was a friendly looking boy. "This is Raoul of Goldenlake."

Raoul smiled and clapped a hand on Thom's shoulder.

"This is Gary – Gareth of Naxen. He's the duke's son," Jonathan continued, glancing at the other boy to his side. He then turned to a slim dark boy beside Gary. "This is Alex of Tirragen. And the page next to Raoul is Francis of Nond."

Thom glanced at each page's face and gave a polite nod. Although not exactly the social type, he didn't want to upset the prince or his friends. Still, he couldn't help keep a lingering gaze of the shy Francis. There was something about him that Thom could not understand. _It's always the quiet ones. _

"Well now that that's settled, who would like to sponsor our new page?" Jonathan asked, glancing at his friends.

Gary grinned and stepped forward before the others could react. "I'll do it, Jon," he answered. Glancing at Thom, he gave a wink.

The prince turned his gaze back at Thom and nodded in approval. "A sponsor," he explained, "is someone who keeps you from getting too lost in the palace. I believe Gary's an excellent sponsor for you."

Thom gave no reply and nodded, shaking Gary's hand.

Gary smiled in a friendly way as he shook Thom's hand. "Thom of Trebond, welcome to Court."


	3. Training Day Revised

**

* * *

Chapter 3**

Training Day

A large bell that hung from one of the palace towers began to ring loudly, awaking a deeply sleeping Thom. Still weary from the long trip to the palace, he awoke slowly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Yawning, he moved in a zombie-like fashion and splashed cold water onto his face, waking him up in an instant.

Gary arrived at the doorway to Thom's room, annoyingly cheerful and wide-awake. He shoved a whole tray of food into Thom's hands as the door peeked open. "Here. You're going to need your strength," he said simply before Thom could say anything.

Thom accepted the tray with a sigh and picked out an apple, biting into it hungrily. Quietly, he followed Gary to their first class, wondering what he was to learn first.

"First class is reading and writing," Gary said, heading into the room.

Thom stretched. "But I already know how to do both," he replied with a shrug.

"Really?" Gary grinned. "Well, I'm sure the teachers will find something for you to do then, heh."

Thom did not like the sound of that and decided to play it safe. Entering the classroom, he gaped at the Mithran priest dressed in bright orange robes and sighed. _As if I need anymore reminder of me being stuck in here_, he thought glumly, taking a seat beside Gary. But _that's no reason to not have a bit of fun while here_. Thom grinned evilly.

At the end of class, Thom played stupid and the teachers assigned him to practice his calligraphy and to read a very short poem. He was to report on both the next day, although he guessed his teachers did not expect much from him. It was a simple plan, and if he kept it up, he wouldn't be so overworked.

"So what's next?" the redheaded boy asked casually as Gary led him to his next lesson.

"Mathematics. Makes my head spin," Gary replied. "But I'm sure a Trebond like you would find it nothing."

Thom fought the urge to scoff. A "Trebond like him" _did_ know his mathematics well enough as if it were easy as breathing. But he had no intention of revealing that little secret just yet.

Alex chuckled and caught up behind Gary. "A regular scholar."

"My father was strict on studying, that's all," Thom replied, "trying" to sound modest. He even gave a shrug, as if the topic disinterested him.

"Sounds _exactly_ like my father," Gary replied dryly, rolling his eyes.

Thom shrugged again. "I wouldn't know. I don't think they ever got along."

* * *

The rest of the day had gone on slowly. Thom fought hard not to fall asleep during his lessons. A Mithran priest almost caught him dozing off during a class on etiquette. Yet, much to his surprise, Thom found himself very much awake for one class. It was at this particular class that a Mithran priest did not instruct the lesson. Instead, a rather ruffled looking man by the name of Sir Myles of Olau taught it. 

Thom, despite his normal reclusive self, found that he tolerated the old knight. Although he would never admit to liking the man, Thom found Myles interesting and worth listening to.

Myles met amethyst eyes gaping at him and smiled. "Oh, I see we have a new student joining us today. You must be the young Trebond lad. Tell me, how is your father?" he asked politely, trying to start up a conversation.

Thom shrugged. "Last time I checked, he was writing an entire manifesto on the Rylkal Document," he replied honestly. _That should keep him busy for the next ten years or so_, he added silently to himself.

At this, the old knight chuckled heartily. "I see. So how are you liking Court so far, young Trebond?"

Again Thom shrugged. "I couldn't say. Perhaps if I see more of it, I'll give you a straight answer."

"I do hope you like it here at Corus," Myles said, smiling at Thom. With a final nod, he turned back to the rest of the class and said, "Today we'll be learning about the Tortallan Wars, as Duke Gareth so _kindly_ informed me to lecture you on, as opposed to the Code of Chivalry."

There came a few groans from the room and the old knight laughed once again. "I think we've argued enough on the Code for day," he added.

Thom sat in class and paid close attention to every word Myles spoke. And from what he heard he couldn't help but smile. He was sure to like this Sir Myles of Olau after all.

* * *

It was sad to say that Thom's intellectual heaven was soon yanked away from him as the day went on. After a lesson on philosophy, he – much to his horror – was led into the practice courts. There, Thom was to learn wrestling, sword fighting, staff fighting, archery, and other skills needed for a knight. 

"…Here you'll have to also learn the basics on falling and how to stand properly, you know," Gary's voice droned on, causing Thom to go pale.

More and more, Thom suddenly felt the sickening feeling in his gut tighten. It was the end for him. He was done for. There would be nothing left of him once the day was over.

Gary caught sight of Thom's anguishing look and chuckled. He clapped Thom on the shoulder and remarked reassuringly, "Don't worry, fire top. It's nothing _too_ bad."

Alex smirked and walked beside Gary, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "That is…_If_ you think getting dirty, tearing lots of muscles and ligaments, bruising yourself, and breaking every bone in your body easy, then I guess you'll survive," he said mischievously, crossing his arms over his chest.

Gary shrugged. "Well if you put it _that_ way, of course it's going to sound bad," he snapped, shaking his head with a sigh.

Raoul caught up with the three pages and grinned as well. "Face it, Gary, training to become a knight sounds terribly painful."

"I was only trying to get Thom to think positive for a change," he said through gritted teeth. He glared at his big friend and made a warning sound.

Thom was barely listening to the bickering friends. He was completely worried about the training to come. He was going to be embarrassed in front of the whole Court. He was going to be a laughing stock. He was going to be humiliated! _Oh, the shame of it all!_ he thought bitterly. Inhaling deeply, he took another step forward. "Prepare for the pain."

Within the next few hours, Thom was dressed in a padded armor, holding a staff in his hands. His objective was to learn how to stop a blow aimed for him using his staff. Needless to say, he was not very successful. Despite his padded armor, he felt as if Chubby had kicked him. Matters did not improve when he was made to practice falling and slapping the ground correctly.

If the young noble had no more pride left in him, he would have thrown himself onto the ground in despair and burst into tears. Luckily, he still held a little dignity to keep himself from disgracing his name ever more.

The lessons went on for hours until Thom felt that he could no longer hold his head up high without wincing in pain. When the training ended for the day, he hobbled into the castle and leaned against the wall, clutching his ribs. It hurt to breathe.

As he staggered down the hallway, the redhead bumped into none other than Gary. Hoarsely, he gasped, "W…what's next?"

Gary glanced at Thom, a look of sympathy in his face. "We've a few minutes to wash up for dinner. Make sure you stay awake," he advised, ruffling Thom's red hair.

"And make sure you don't drop any plates or trays, especially when it's your first time," Alex added, tagging along next to Thom. "You want to make a good impression now, eh? Duke Gareth won't be happy if you drop anything."

Raoul and Jonathan caught up with the three pages, followed by Francis. Raoul smirked slyly when he heard the conversation. "Yes, you don't want to end up like poor Jon over here," he said, patting Jonathan's shoulder, almost sympathetically.

Jonathan blushed. "Raoul…"

Gary clucked his tongue loudly. "Oh, that's right. The previous night, Jon dropped this tray of gravy on my father's lap. It wasn't a very pretty sight, you know," he said, snickering.

The prince shot his cousin an icy glare. "Gary! You…you…you–"

"Jon! That's not very princely of you," Alex teased, snickering as well. "As I recall, the duke was furious. But don't worry, _someday_, he'll _eventually_ forgive you. You did ruin his best robes, after all."

Thom was barely listening to the conversation. All he wanted now was to sleep.

* * *

That night, Thom nearly dozed off on his feet even before the meal even started. His whole body felt numb and his fingers – bloody and swollen – were almost incapable of gripping anything. 

Thom groaned softly as he felt a soft nudge on his ribs. Jolting awake, he found Gary clearing his throat and twitching his head to the side. Thom immediately glanced over to his side and noticed a grumpy looking page holding up a tray of food in front of his nose.

"Here!" the page snapped crankily, shoving the tray unceremoniously into Thom's hands. "You've been standing there for so long, I was wondering when you were going to wake up. Take this to his Grace. Hurry up before it gets cold!"

Groggily, Thom accepted the tray, careful not to spill any of the contents when the boy had shoved it into his hands. With the help from Gary, he managed to walk quickly and carefully towards the duke. Quietly, he hoed he would not trip over anything while serving the duke.

Gary laughed as Thom made his way back to his post. "You best keep your eyes open, fire top. The meal has only begun." And with that, he left, taking a tray from another page and moving towards the dining tables.


	4. A Foreboding Feeling

**Author's Note:** Finally! After a very long wait, I FINALLY present to you, CHAPTER 4 of Crossing Paths with a Sorceror. I know it's been a long time, really, and I'm truly sorry, but I had to do MAJOR MAJOR **revisions **to this fic, and as you can see (if you reread the first 3 chapters again) I've changed them almost completely. But anyway, I'm trying really really hard with trying to finish all my fics, and it's just so annoying when I lose all my hand written fics and then can't find them until months later, and I just simply cannot work with this stupid filter on my damn coputer. It filters absoltuely EVERYTHING, and so uploading becomes a challenge. Anyway, please enjoy this long awaited chapter. I'm in the process of completing Chapter 5 and will hopefully be able to post it up by next week if there are no problems. 

**Chapter 4**

**A Foreboding Feeling**

"Wake up, fire top!"

Thom groaned in his sleep and rolled over in hi bed. It couldn't have been morning already. He had just fallen asleep. And there was _no_ way to believe that Gary's voice would suddenly float into his ears, as if he were lingering in the room.

Sleepily, the redhead peered at the hazy face forming before him. _This couldn't be real. It's just a dream. Gary's not supposed to be in here. I never invited him in. And it's not like he'd be in my room anyway_, he thought, yawning. _Gary in my room, yeah…sure. That's a good one. He's not in my room_.

Gary _was_ in Thom's room.

"Huaha!" Thom jolted awake and nearly fell off his bed from the shock. "W-what are _you_ doing in here!" he stammered, pointing an accusing finger at the big youth.

Gary chuckled in amusement. "Don't look surprised. Your manservant Coram brought me in here. He said not even a flood could wake you," he explained, a devilish grin spreading across his mouth. "Now come along, or you'll be late."

"Not on your life," Thom growled, throwing the covers over his head and curling back to sleep. He wasn't going to let some grinning buffoon get his way. He was going to sleep. There was no power on earth – whether it be an Immortal or a god – that could make him move from his bed.

Gary sighed and shook his head. Then, with a small shrug, he threw his arms forward before Thom could react.

"Hey! Ow!"

* * *

"…Algebra is the building block…" 

The sound of the old monk's wheezing voice droned on and on monotonously. It was a miracle how anyone could last at least seven minutes in class without dozing off.

The room was full of weary-eyed pages, some struggling to stay awake, others already in a deep slumber. Jonathan, for one thing, had piled his books up on his desk and hid behind them, resting his head against the table. Francis had completely succumbed to the sweet callings of slumber and was now slumped limply against his chair, his head facing the ceiling as he snored loudly. Luckily, the old monk was too busy with his speech to pay any attention to the pages.

Thom couldn't help but find himself distracted from the lesson. Enviously, he eyed Jonathan and Francis,

wishing he could have the luxury to sleep. Of course, judging by his luck – he didn't have very much – he would get caught the minute he started dozing off.

Looking around the room, Thom noticed a few pages wide-awake. He observed a smirking Gary crumpling a piece of parchment and throwing it against the back of Raoul's head in an attempt to distract the quiet page. Raoul, who had been sitting in front of Gary, spun around and scowled at the smirking youth.

Meanwhile, Alex was scribbling notes down on his parchment, looking bored as he glanced up at the monk from time to time.

"Trebond!"

Thom jumped from his seat and snapped his head back towards the Mithran priest. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Jonathan knocking a few of his books aside as he jolted awake. Francis fell back with his chair and landed with a loud "plop!" on the floor.

"You will learn algebra by carefully studying your book, not by gawking stupidly around the room!" the Mithran priest snapped sternly.

Thom blushed slightly and scowled at the old monk. "Tell that to Raoul and Gary over there," he muttered under his breath.

From the corner of the room, another crumpled piece of parchment zoomed through the air and made contact with Raoul's head. Thom heard a suppressed snicker and the shifting of a chair. Suddenly, he jumped once again as a loud, and rather high-pitched, yelp broke the droning monk's voice.

"Naxen! Goldenlake!"

* * *

The bell gave a loud ring, ending class suddenly. With a sigh of relief, Thom hurried out of the room, trying his best to avoid Gary as much as possible. 

"Blast it! How'd I end up in trouble with you!" Roaul growled bitterly, walking behind Thom.

Gary limped out of class, his hands suddenly clasping down on Thom's shoulder. "Don't look at _me_! You're the one who kicked me!" he snapped, continuing to limp forward.

Thom tried to shake off the large page's grip from his already sore shoulder. "If I didn't know any better, _I'd_ say you deserved it," he snapped heatedly, heading towards the next class.

Gary put an innocent face, pointing to himself. "Who me?"

Thom shot the smiling page a murderous glare. "Don't think I don't remember this morning. You and your wake up call."

Raoul threw Thom a curious look before turning to look at Gary. "What happened?" he asked curiously.

Gary gave a nervous chuckle as he scratched the back of his head. "Hehe…it was only a small wake up call. Nothing to worry about, really," he said quickly, trying to limp away.

"Nothing? Nothing! You broke into my room, no thanks to Coram! Then you literally throw me out of bed and tied me to a chair!" Thom snapped. Throwing another death glare at Gary.

"You wouldn't eat!" Gary said, smirking evilly. "It'll never do you any good if you train on an empty stomach."

"Yes, well it would've helped of you hadn't shoved an apple down my throat," Thom grumbled, still in a sour mood.

Roaul chuckled heartily and clapped his hands on Thom's and Gary's shoulders. "I sense the start of a beautiful friendship. Now hurry. We're going to be late."

For once Thom agreed and picked up the pace. As he rushed down the corridors with the two big pages, he couldn't help but feel somewhat 'included'…whatever that meant.

* * *

"Come on, Trebond! Stop dilly-dallying. This is a weapon, not a plaything. Shoot!" 

Thom flushed with embarrassment, turning a deep shade of red. In his hands, he gripped the bow tightly while drawing an arrow from his quiver. His hands shook as he tried to steady his bow. Fumbling with the string, he accidentally dropped the arrow.

"What's the matter, Trebond? Never touch a bow and arrow before? Move!" barked the instructor.

It was another day of archery, and Thom was in no better shape then he was the previous day. His instructor had made him practice the proper stance for shooting a bow and all the other basic steps in archery. But no matter how hard he tried, Thom found no conviction to the activity whatsoever. Thom wasn't bad at archery. He just wasn't…ready.

_Stupid arrow. Stupid piece of–_

"Draw!"

Thom groaned and drew out another arrow from his quiver. This time, he drew the arrow up properly.

"Steady, lad, steady."

The redhead carefully steadied his grip and aimed carefully at the target before him. He drew the string. Pointed. Fired…Missed.

The instructor snatched the bow from Thom's hands and held it up firmly before the page. "_This_ is how you hold a bow. And _this_," he said, plucking and arrow from Thom's quiver, "is how to shoot." He drew the arrow along the string and fired. The arrow zoomed into the air and hit the target at the center.

The instructor handed the bow back to Thom. "Now practice. By the end of this week, I expect you to shoot properly _and_ hit the target."

* * *

"'Shoot properly and hit the target! Shoot properly and hit the target!'" Thom mimicked to himself angrily as he balanced two trays in his hands. "I'll show you, you cranky old man," he grumbled, placing the trays on the table. 

"Who's cranky?" a voice spoke up suddenly.

Thom yelped, whirled around, and found himself face to face with a rather handsome man with a rugged face and high cheek bones. He looked to be in his mid-twenties and sported a dark tan and a few scars along his _very_ musculararms. _Dead! I'm dead now! He's going to hit me!_

The man wore a boyish grin on his face and gave an amused laugh as Thom paled. "You act as if I'm going to eat you," he remarked playfully, running a hand through his untidy black hair.

Thom gulped and gave the older man a bow. "Sir," he mumbled before heading back into the kitchens. On his way, he spotted Gary leaning against the door, his eyes glazing over. Moving towards him, Thom quietly asked, "Gary, who is that man standing over there? The one with all those scars on his arms?"

Gary looked over the crowd for a moment, trying to pinpoint who Thom was indicating. Finally spotting the man, Gary grinned and replied, "That's the Shang Falcon. I hear he's to stay in the palace for a while."

Thom glanced at the prince, a curious look rising to his face. "Oh really? How do you know for sure?" he asked, absentmindedly holding up a tray another page had shoved in his hand.

"I overheard father talking about it this morning. He mentioned something about us learning a thing or two in Shang fighting."

_Great. _More_ ways to break bones_, Thom thought glumly, suppressing the urge to slam his head against the door in hopes of knocking himself unconscious.

"Mithros, boy! What are you doing? Stop day-dreaming and bring this to the table!" the cranky etiquette master barked, shoving another tray of food under Thom's nose. "Now don't look at me that way! Off you go!"

Thom was ready to kill him. Grumbling to himself, he was off once again to the table he had been assigned to, a steaming plate in his hands. Placing the plate onto the table, he finally noticed the Shang Falcon look up at him from the table, his boyish grin still planted on the corners of his mouth.

_He smiles too much,_ Thom thought to himself, meeting the man's dark eyes.

"We meet again, purple eyes," the Falcon said, smiling broadly now. He turned to glance at his companions seated at the table with him and added, "It's not everyday you see a lad with purple eyes, now is it?"

"Yes…very unusual eyes," one of his friends commented softly.

Thom looked up to see a very attractive woman with dark brown eyes staring at him curiously. He didn't like being stared at so.

The woman did not seem to notice his discomfort and tilted her head slightly to the side. "What is your name, page?" she asked.

"Thom of Trebond, your ladyship," Thom replied as politely as he could, fighting the urge to make a face.

The woman gave a nod and curled her pretty lips into a smile. "Ah, a Trebond," she said approvingly. "Well, I should hope to see you more often at Court, young Trebond. But for now, I wouldn't want to keep you from your duties." And with that, she gave the slightest of nods, sending Thom back into the kitchen.

As Thom departed for the kitchen once again, he couldn't shake off a feeling of dread spreading throughout his entire body. For some strange reason, he knew it would not be the last time he would see that woman. But somehow, their next encounter would be that of a tragedy.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yeah, I can tell there was a lot of fluff going on in this chapter. To be honest, I added the fluff to make the chapter seem a little longer, and I wanted people to get the feel of Thom's interactions with the other characters in the story. Anyway, please **RnR**! Thank you! 


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